Too Old, Too Poor, Too Dangerous
by PrimaveraElysium
Summary: Hello! Welcome to my very first ever fic! As it is my first, I appreciate any constructive criticism or feedback anyone has to offer. This story picks up right after the events in the Department of Mysteries and will follow Tonks & Lupin's relationship. Hope you like it! (All characters and settings and most everything is property of J.K. Rowling with some extra stuff by me)


Tonks woke abruptly, suddenly aware of several things without having to open her eyes. At first, the pain in her head overwhelmed all other sensations, throbbing and insistent. She recalled her training and breathed through the pain as Mad-Eye had taught her. She soon became aware that her toes were freezing, though her right hand felt unaccountably warm and comfortable.

She opened her eyes slowly, squinting at first in the bright light coming from the window over the bed. Bleary-eyed, she recognized the drab tile and iron bedsteads of St. Mungo's. Turning her head to the rumpled figure in the chair beside her bed, she smiled despite a growing sense of alarm.

"Wotcher, Remus," she whispered.

His grip on her hand tightened as he shook himself out of a doze. The look of relief on his tired face was enough to break her heart. She pulled her feet under the blankets and edged her way up until she was sitting up, leaning against the pillows. Her eyes never left his face. She knew something had gone horribly wrong. She realized she was clutching his hand, but neither moved to let go.

"Nympha-"he began, until he noticed that her eyes were narrowing threateningly. He allowed himself a small smile. "Tonks," he amended. Suddenly, she remembered.

She'd gotten word from Kingsley, she and the rest of the Order had followed Harry and his friends to the Ministry. They'd fought Death Eaters, she'd been dueling her aunt when…The memory ended in a flash of searing pain and the sensation of falling.

She could tell by the slump of his shoulders, the defeat etched on his face that someone had died. She frantically ran through a roster of who had been present, eyes already brimming with tears. Taking a deep breath, she simply said,

"Who?"

He didn't look surprised that she had guessed the truth. He bowed his head and said in a strained voice,

"Sirius."

She had considered this possibility, of course, but having it confirmed still seemed to knock all of the air out of her. Tears rolled down her cheeks, she was crying for her cousin, for the rebellion, and for Remus. He had watched as one by one his closest friends, his only family, had died or turned against him. He was the last Marauder, more alone and apart than he had ever been. Tonks felt her grief as a physical ache, made all the worse by the thought of what Remus must be feeling.

Breathing slowly to still the ragged sobs she hadn't been aware of until just then, Tonks chanced a look at him, still holding his hand. Instinctively, his eyes rose to meet hers and she saw that he was crying as well. She leaned over the side of the bed and brought her other hand to his cheek, catching several tears on her thumb. He shuddered a sigh and leaned into her touch, struggling to control his breaths.

"When can I get out of here?" she asked when they had both regained a semblance of composure.

"The Healer said if you woke up you'd be free to go whenever you liked.

"_If_?" Tonks's eyebrows arched and a bit of the old sparkle returned to her dark eyes. She felt well enough to release him and get out of bed, realizing too late that she was wearing a paper thin and almost indecently short hospital gown. Thankfully he had the tact to stand and turn to face the door while she changed into the clean clothes that had been neatly folded at the end of the bed.

She felt a little better in soft, baggy jeans and a black T-shirt, but the sadness and disbelief at the loss of Sirius threatened to overtake her. She had a feeling that this grief would not ever really fade. Catching a glimpse of herself in the bedside mirror and gave a soft cry of dismay.

Her metamorph powers were governed by her consciousness- a part of her mind was constantly devoted to maintaining the change in her appearance. When this conscious control was interrupted, either by sleep or obsession or accidental coma, she reverted to her ordinary appearance. Her facial features were always the same; she quite liked her angular features and only changed them when she was using a disguise. Her hair was quite a different matter. Naturally middling in length, volume, and color, it was alarmingly mediocre.

Wrinkling her nose, she intended to return to her customary bubblegum spikes but only managed a few pale streaks. Apparently her powers were also affected by her subconscious, which was currently occupied entirely with boundless grief.

Heaving a sigh, she turned to find herself face to face with Remus. He flushed and looked uncomfortable to have been caught staring.

"I…I like your brown hair," he stammered, looking away.

She smiled. It was a far cry from the irreverent grins he had come to expect from her, but it was a start. Still feeling woozy, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and they walked out into the busy London street together.


End file.
